Have any of you ever seen a ghost?
I have. Twice. Or maybe one and a half, since the second time it wasn't really a ghost, just a visit.
Get a snack, here we go...
When I was a kid, we lived on this 5 acre ranch in California. All the houses on the street were on the same side and about 5 acres each. Behind us was nothing but open field and same across the street.
The house next to us (to the east) was haunted.
When we first moved in there was a family there but they moved away shortly after we moved in. (Was it something I said? jk) The next family moved in. My brother and I watched from our yard but there wasn't much to see. Their front door was obscured by trees and a bad angle relative to our yard. We could see the window of the bedroom that faced our house.
We saw the silhouette of a mover working in there and after about 15 minutes of watching the working man, we got bored and went back inside our own home.
Later that day, the new family came over to introduce themselves and to ask if the former family had left any keys for them. My dad said they hadn't. The new family said they couldn't get into one of the rooms and the realtor mentioned that the former family may've left the keys with us.
The room they couldn't get in to was the room where my brother and I watched the silhouetted man working in. My brother and I looked at each other and thought, "Naaaah. Couldn't be." Later, we went over to play with the new kids and my dad went with us to see if he could help out at all. Sure enough - it was the same room. My dad and their dad jimmied the lock and we got in. The youngest kid (L.S.) picked that room. It had this big portrait of a creepy looking old man on the wall and L.S. decided he liked it and would keep it up.
Fast forward 3 years.
The next family to move in was a big one. They had 6 or 7 kids and the oldest was Johnny K. sigh. Big crush on Johnny K. The boy smelled so good! He was about 4 years older then me and was really nice. He picked the creepy room and left the portrait up. He played guitar and was a nice kid who really looked after his younger siblings.
All the neighbor kids came home on the same bus and we'd usually head straight for the K.'s house because they had an Atari and a stay at home mom who'd give us cookies. Johnny's after school activites kept him til the late bus. One day, we came over to the K.'s house as usual but their mom had gone into town for more fabric (she used to make the most beautiful quilts).
We'd been there about an hour and were in the game room playing Atari when we heard Johnny playing his guitar. Barry K. thought Johnny had ditched his after-school stuff and went to knock on the door to ask him about it. I was standing next to him (any excuse to get a glimpse into Johnny's room!) and just as Barry was reaching his hand up to knock, the guitar playing became this screeching, feedback, crazed and LOUD noisy nonsense!
We covered our ears and were yelling for Johnny to stop it and to open the door. Then it stopped.
And then Johnny walked up behind us and asked what the hell we were doing and who was messin' with his guitar.
Barry and I about wet our pants.
Johnny opened his door and there was nothing in there.
A couple of weeks later, Johnny was doing his patented devil voice. He used to use this gravelly, scary devil voice to scare us younger kids and he'd chase us around and when he'd catch one, he'd tickle them til they begged for mercy.
We were all hanging out in Johnny's room and he started the devil voice thing. We started laughing and begging him to stop because we knew the tickle torture/fun was about to begin. He was just winding up in to it when all of a sudden, he went crazy. He started swinging his fisted hands around and Barry told him to cut it out, that he was going to hurt someone. Well, J ended up knocking us all to hell. He hit Barry first and knocked him in to the edge of his waterbed. Then Paul (another brother) came up behind J to grab his arms. J knocked him in to the closet, breaking the closet door. He knocked me into his weight bench - it fell over and just missed crushing my head with the free weights on the bar. The whole incident lasted less then 2 minutes with J jibbering nonsense in that devil voice. Then Aimee (the neighbor kid on the other side of them) ran up and slapped Johnny as hard as she could.
He stopped. He looked around, sort of dazed and confused. His eyes got all teary and he started apologizing profusely, helping each of us up. After that, he explained how, sometimes in that room, he'd be looking at that creepy portrait and he'd get these really weird thoughts in his head. He wanted to get rid of it but he just couldn't bring himself to do it for some reason.
That was it for us. We did it for him. We took that portrait off the wall (I remember it was suprisingly heavy) and cut it up and broke the frame and threw the whole thing in the trash.
There were never any more instances in that room as far as I know.
The other time was when I was stationed in Germany...
I was sleeping peacefully in my bed in the barracks of the hospital I was stationed at in Wurzburg, Germany. I woke up and there was a bright light at the end of my bed, like someone had opened the door to the hallway and shone a spotlight in. My brother was standing in front of the light and I could only see him in silhouette. I couldn't really see his face because of the backlight, but I'd know that stoner hair anywhere.
I asked what he was doing here and how'd he even get here. He turned his head ever so slightly so I could see his face and he just smiled at me. I reached for my glasses on my nightstand and when I looked back, he was gone. I thought it must've been a dream but I did have my glasses in my hand and it all seemed so damn real.
I went back to sleep and when I woke up the next morning I called my brother to tell him about this crazy dream I'd had. He was just coming home from the hospital. About the time I had my dream (or whatever it was), my brother had crashed while riding his motorcycle and it was a pretty nasty crash. Not as bad as most, he had a helmet on and didn't break anything, but they spent about 4 hours cleaning gravel out of his skin. If you've ever had road rash that needed debriding, you know how painful it is. If you haven't... well, trust me - you're very lucky. He was never in any danger of dying or anything but, I don't know, I still think he visited me.
Do y'all have any ghost stories that you've experienced?
Need a good campfire, Ruth!
P. S. Very cool raffle here.